


Strange Enchanted Boy

by isisdraco



Series: Teen Wolf Character Deaths [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Deathfic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Like Suuuper Mild, Loss of a Brother, Mild Language, Season 3 Spoilers, Triggers, Very Mild Gore, a BROTHER, because Scott and Stiles are brothers, my feels for these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 04:25:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isisdraco/pseuds/isisdraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>You need to be that spark, Stiles… It can be pretty extraordinary what the force of your own will can accomplish… If this is gonna work, Stiles, you have to believe it.</em>
</p><p>Stiles knew something was up but he didn't have the proof, the evidence, to back his hypothesis. But now he does, because he has a hole in his stomach and he's bleeding out fast. In the end, his brother is there with him, and his friends, he just wishes his dad could be there, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Enchanted Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Nat King cole's "Nature Boy"
> 
> There was a boy  
> A very strange enchanted boy  
> They say he wandered very far, very far  
> Over land and sea  
> A little shy and sad of eye  
> But very wise was he
> 
> And then one day  
> A magic day he passed my way  
> And while we spoke of many things  
> Fools and kings  
> This he said to me  
> "The greatest thing you'll ever learn  
> Is just to love and be loved in return"
> 
> A truck load of thanks to my wonderful beta, she caught the awkward sentences and she let me watch her cry when she got to the end. She's an angel, guys.

# Stiles

_You need to be that spark, Stiles… It can be pretty extraordinary what the force of your own will can accomplish… If this is gonna work, Stiles, you have to believe it._

How do you begin to repent for all the bad you’ve done when you’re practically waiting in line for judgment? A f    ew minutes can’t possibly be enough time to analyze everything you’ve done wrong, all the things you wish you’d done differently. You start seeking forgiveness so it doesn’t feel like your chest is going to cave in right before you die, and it won’t come. The only thing you can really do to make the weight a little lighter is make peace with yourself. Forgiving yourself, _really_ forgiving yourself, might be harder than asking someone else to forgive you. Not being able to say “I’m sorry and I’ll do anything to prove it.” when you _need to_ , feels like drowning. But forgiving yourself, it’s the next best thing.

 

Stiles isn’t thinking about his dad enough in this very moment. It’s like feeling guilty about not feeling guilty. That’s not the case here, because he has tons to feel guilty about. But right now? Right now Stiles feels like he let everyone down and compromised their safety because he couldn’t figure everything out. There’s no big picture put together, the sacrifices don’t stop and there’s no way to know what the common denominator is going to be for the next three. Stiles hasn’t figured out who’s committing the murders and why, or for how long they’re going to continue. He can’t be sure if the Alphas have anything to do with the sacrifices or not, but Ethan was the target for one of the sacrifices, and Deucalion only seems to want Derek to kill his pack and join them. It’s unlikely the Alpha pack knows what’s going on, but he refuses to remove them from the suspect list, not without concrete evidence.

But Stiles did figure one thing out, and now everyone knows that Cora is full of shit.

“Stiles!” Lydia had a quick eye and any other time she probably could’ve called it in time, but she wasn’t fast enough on this one. Stiles tries not to feel angry about it, it wasn’t Lydia’s fault.

“Nonononono! Stiles!” He was so glad Scott was there to grab him before he hit the ground, and he lets Scott manhandle him into a comfortable position in time to see Isaac wolf out and tear after Cora.

If Stiles had just waited for Scott and Isaac to catch up before he chased after Cora, maybe he wouldn’t have a hole in his stomach that matched up perfectly with her claws.

“Put him down Scott, be careful.” Allison instructed. She sounded calm but if anyone noticed the hint of fear in her voice, no one said anything. “Lydia, call an ambulance. Scott, take off your sweater and give it to me, quickly.”

Lydia nodded and Stiles could see her taking deep breaths, trying to steady her voice for when she got through to the dispatcher. Scott maneuvered Stiles to the ground as gently as possible until he was on his back, his head resting on a pile of leaves.

“We called the ambulance Stiles, they’re on their way, okay? Just hold on.” Allison smiled as she placed one hand on his bicep and reached out to take Scott’s sweater with the other. Stiles knew that smile, it was the smile that came with glassy eyes. That was her go-to smile when she needed to fight back tears. “I’m just gonna try to slow the bleeding ‘til the paramedics get here, is that okay?”

Stiles nodded and looked over at Scott, who instantly knelt beside him. “Can someone please call my dad?”

Lydia finally spoke up, “I already did. He’s on his way.”

And that’s when it got real. Stiles finally felt the pain in his stomach that radiated through his entire body. Cora’s claws didn’t make a big wound, but it was deep enough that Stiles could feel his blood slowly pooling at his lower back. It forced him to realize that he felt cold, the warmth of the blood causing him to shiver. Or maybe he was going into shock. He was trembling, not shivering.

“God,” Stiles tilted his head as far back as he could, he could feel the prick of tears blurring his vision. “This really hurts.” He turned when he felt Scott shift to his right.

Scott was wiping his eyes off on his shirt and Stiles lost it. He screwed his eyes shut and let out a little sob, digging his fingers into the earth and balling them into fists until his knuckles turned white. “It burns so bad, Scott. Shiiit.”

“I know. But it’s okay Stiles.” The way Scott’s voice cracked, his eyebrows pulling up and together, broadcasting the pain he was feeling, made Stiles whimper and Lydia sob. “You just have to hold on, the paramedics are on their way. Just a little bit longer, they’re coming. Look Stiles, here.” He felt Scott tug his sleeve up to his elbow and wrap his hand around his wrist. “It’s gonna feel better. Just wait Stiles, just look at me.”

And Stiles did, and there was hope on his face. Scott was trying to take his pain, he wanted to share it, to make Stiles’ pain his own. “It feels-feels better man.” He lied. It didn’t hurt any less, but you don’t tell your brother that the only thing he can do for you isn’t working. It made his heart clench, because it was solace and brotherhood and it was sorrow and grieving. Scott wasn’t taking his physical pain, he was taking the sorrow so Stiles could breathe.

Stiles was starting to feel the blood loss. His vision was beginning to gray and he couldn’t feel past his knees. But he did feel Lydia’s hand on his thigh, warm and heavy and comforting, he covered it with his own without looking.

“My dad.” He choked off on a sob and took his hand off Lydia’s to cover his face, he couldn’t get his bottom lip to stop trembling and his tears were getting sticky on his face. Allison squeezed Stiles’ left shoulder, he could hear her sniffling, but she swept her thumb back and forth until he was able to continue and replace his hand over Lydia’s. “Tell my-tell my dad I’m sorry.”

Scott shook his head angrily, bringing forth a fresh, steady stream of tears. “Stop that. Tell him yourself.” And then softer, broken. “ _You_ have to tell him, Stiles. You _have to_.”

Stiles cried some more, and they let him. Allison went back to rubbing her thumb back and forth, Lydia put her other hand on top of his, and Scott cried into his shoulder. He fucked everything up, the most important thing to Stiles, and he was about to damage it forever. And the worst part, the part that made his chest feel like it was going to collapse, was the fact that he wasn’t going to get the chance to fix things with his dad. The option of telling him everything, the lying, the murders, all those secrets Stiles kept, all that was no longer on the table. He just wants to go back to this morning, make his bed so his dad doesn’t have to go in there tonight and lay in Stiles’ bed because it’s going to smell the most like him. He needs to move the milk to the very front of the fridge so his dad doesn’t have to be reminded of Stiles’ daily attempts to hide the milk all the way in the back. He wishes he’d hugged him before he left for school because his dad gives amazing hugs. But Stiles knows that won’t happen, he won’t make it, and neither will his dad. Because he feels like he’s lying on ice and it’s getting harder to breathe.

“Look at me Scott.” He startles but turns to look at Stiles like he’s about to reveal the meaning of life. “ _Promise_ you’ll take care of my dad.” He keeps his teeth clenched and bares them when Scott begins to shake his head. “Fucking do it, Scott. Promise you’ll keep him safe for me. You-you can’t tell him the truth. He’ll go after them. He’ll die, Scott.” He chokes off on a sob at the same time that Scott does. It’s so fucked, because his dad will never have the weird, sick comfort that comes with knowing how a loved one died. He’ll be left wondering and obsessing over how and why Stiles died. Why someone or something would take away his son and leave him completely alone in the world.

“ _Promise_.” He pleads and he feels himself let go too much when Scott sobs “I promise.” The girls stopped their best effort to cry quietly.

Stiles can feel it. Death is something that you can touch, you can feel it with every inch of your body, and it’s utterly terrifying. “Scott. I’m scared Scott. I’m really scared. I’m scared.” Stiles can feel the girls tightening their grip on him, clinging tightly like that’ll be enough to keep him here, alive. And he can hear them, all of them, including himself, crying, but it sounds like they’re all stuck in a vacuum. Stiles knows he’s sobbing, and he wonders how any of them understand what he’s saying. “Scott. Scott. I’m so scared, I don’t wanna die Scott. I don’t wanna die.” His hand moves of its own accord to grip the hem of Scott’s t-shirt, and his wrist is cold where Scott is no longer touching it. “Help me Scott. I’m-I. I don’t-I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go Scott.”

“Stiles! I-Stiles! Look at me! Look at my face, just look at my face. I’m still here. I haven’t gone anywhere, I’m here.” And Stiles feels a big hand on his chest, right above his heart. “I’m still here Stiles.”

“Scott… I-” And he hears Scott’s reply like an echo “I haven’t left you Stiles. Don’t go. Goddamnit! Stiles?!”

Even with everything fading out, Stiles never hears sirens and Scott’s forehead feels warm when it touches his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> Tada! Part two in the twisted series that will probably take a toll on my feelings and emotional stability.. Stiles' death was a sad joy to write, its Stiles guys, and Scott is there. And thEY CRY TOGETHER. I dunno, I cried.
> 
> Triggers, people. If blood and dying are triggers, sit this one out. If signs of a possible panic attack happening is a trigger, probably best not to read. The pain shared between two best friends (brothers) while one is dying might be a trigger to some, be warned. If there's anything I missed, please let me know and I will either add it to the tags or in the notes.


End file.
